


Method Acting

by EnduringParadox



Series: Diarmute Modern AU Adventures [3]
Category: Pilgrimage (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Blow Jobs, Domestic Fluff, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Humor, M/M, Sexual Roleplay, Silly, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:34:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27652118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnduringParadox/pseuds/EnduringParadox
Summary: Modern AU. Diarmuid suggests a bit of roleplay in the bedroom: he'll be the Innocent Novice, and David will be the Worldly Knight.David's going to do his best.Includes a lot of overacting from Diarmuid and a lot of panicked fumbling from David. Very silly and fluffy and also smutty.
Relationships: Brother Diarmuid/The Mute
Series: Diarmute Modern AU Adventures [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1763965
Comments: 13
Kudos: 26





	Method Acting

**Author's Note:**

> Let's not discuss how NaNoWriMo is going. :)
> 
> Please enjoy the latest Diarmute smut. A silly fic idea I've had for a while.

It was a very typical evening in their bedroom.

David read under the bedside table lamp’s glow, paging through a book about art forgery that Ciaran had given him. An unusual addition to his bookshelf—Diarmuid often joked that David had a small library of military history right in their apartment—but he had to admit it was a fascinating story. Faked papers and provenance and paintings.

No book was nearly as interesting as Diarmuid, however. After every few pages David would look up in order to watch his boyfriend finish his evening skincare routine before turning in for the night.

All he was allowed to do was watch because every time Diarmuid took him up on his offer to apply the lotion it ended with the both of them tangled in the bed sheets, panting and sweaty and sticky and in need of another shower. Still, simply observing his boyfriend rub that sweet-scented stuff all over his pale, freckled body—that was a treat in itself.

After a few minutes Diarmuid stood naked in front of the full-length mirror, scrutinizing himself for any areas he might have missed, before rifling through their dresser for an oversized t-shirt to sleep in.

Many of David’s shirts had made their way into Diarmuid’s sleepwear collection. This was, in David’s opinion, a Very Good Thing, not only because Diarmuid looked like a walking dream wearing nothing but a big, loose t-shirt that inevitably slipped down to bare his shoulders, but also because he loved that Diarmuid loved to sleep absolutely surrounded by _David_ , with his clothes rubbing against his skin, tangled up in David’s embrace, enveloped in his arms and his scent.

And David himself readily admitted that it was difficult to rest without feeling Diarmuid’s weight on the other side of the mattress, without his soft breathing—as comforting as any lullaby—soothing him to sleep.

Diarmuid, now clad in faded blue t-shirt, sat on the edge of the bed. “Did you ever do any theater stuff when you were younger, David?” he asked.

David slowly closed the book and stared at him, absolutely affronted, eyes wide with disbelief.

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Diarmuid said with a pout, “You could’ve been a stagehand. Or part of the lighting crew.”

“Could’ve. Wasn’t, though.” His boyfriend made a soft, noncommittal noise. One of his small hands gently rubbed David’s calf through the blanket. David asked, “Were you? In theater?”

“Never acting. I was too shy to try out. But I helped make scenery in my high school plays. And I did some costume design in college. Extra credit if you, um, volunteered to help with the professor’s plays. She said it was hands-on experience. You know, I’m not sure that was exactly legal, now that I think about it…”

With a chuckle David set the book on the nightstand and turned off the lamp. As he settled back into bed Diarmuid shifted under the blankets to snuggle against him, idly tracing patterns on his chest with his fingers.

“There’s a reason you’re asking,” David said. It wasn’t an accusatory statement but rather a curious one. His boyfriend had the habit of taking the long way to get to the actual topic on his mind.

Diarmuid gently brushed a finger over one of David’s nipples. “I kind of had an, um, an idea. For the bedroom. It might be a little too much. I don’t know.”

“Doubt it.” There had yet to be a bedroom idea from Diarmuid that hadn’t ended up in a good time. Incident with the sexting notwithstanding.

“No, it could be. This time—promise you won’t laugh? You can tell me if it’s stupid or if you’re not into it, but just. Don’t laugh, please?”

Everything Diarmuid shared with him was a gift. Every shy admission of interest in something new, every experiment with positions and toys and lingerie, was satisfying in itself just because Diarmuid trusted David to pleasure him. He would _never_ betray that trust. “No,” he said. “Never.”

Relief bloomed on Diarmuid’s face along with a blush. “Okay. Well. I thought, maybe we could try a little bit of roleplay? In—in bed?”

David’s mind immediately conjured up a number of arousing images mainly involving Diarmuid in the process of getting undressed or, better yet, already naked. An artist’s model, too lovely to simply just paint. A lonely, neglected husband waiting for a handyman to fix a myriad of issues. A dancer shyly asking a stagehand for assistance in zipping up his costume. “What did you. Uh, what’d you have in mind?”

Diarmuid’s face practically glowed pink. “I was thinking, um. Maybe—maybe I could be a novice monk, and you could be the handsome knight that, um, well, convinces me to break my vows.”

David took a moment to play the words back in his head.

It was not a scenario that he would’ve come up with himself, that was for sure. Him, a knight? And did they even— _sell_ those types of costumes? Who was he kidding, of course they did, there was sex stuff for everything. But a knight and a monk… That seemed rather unique. “Huh,” he said.

Shame and embarrassment burned its way onto Diarmuid’s face. “It is stupid, isn’t it? I’m sorry. Just forget about it. I’m sorry—“

David pulled him close and kissed the side of his head. Diarmuid’s curls tickled his nose. “No, it’s not. I like whatever makes you feel good. You know that.”

“It’s really weird, though.”

“No,” David said again, “It’s not. Don’t think like that, baby. Just wasn’t what I was expecting. But tell me more about—what you like about it? What you want us to do?”

He waited as Diarmuid hid his face in his chest for a moment and then stared up at him through his long, dark lashes. “I just—I kind of. Um. Sort of like—it’s forbidden? That I’d be a novice and I wouldn’t have any experience with sex, I’m not even supposed to _think_ about it, really, but then. Then you come along and you’re so _big_ and brave and handsome but still so gentle with me that—that I can’t help thinking about you when I’m alone. And I’m not sure what I want, but I know that you make me feel hot and hard and that I want to touch myself but I want you to touch me more. To have you on me, inside me.”

Okay, David thought, that was really fucking hot. Diarmuid wanted to play someone inexperienced and dealing with real lust and attraction for the first time, and he wanted David to be the man to gently seduce him. To show him all the worldly pleasures he’d been missing out on. He could do that, at least. He could definitely do that.

“Yeah,” he replied, voice thick with arousal. “Yeah, let’s do it. I’d like that.”

Diarmuid beamed. “Really? You want to? Oh, David, I’m so glad! I can get our clothes ready—I’ll order something from the lingerie boutique and, um, I can write out the scenario, a bit? I kind of, um, already had a—a kind of story in mind. We can go over it, rehearse.”

Lost in the thought of the image of Diarmuid, naked and trembling under his hands and lips, overwhelmed with new, forbidden sensations, David idly nodded. “Yeah, sweetheart. That’d be fun.”

“Great! And I think, just to make it more realistic—like, method acting? We shouldn’t have sex until we’re ready for the roleplay.”

“ _What_ **,** ” David said.

* * *

Diarmuid took his method acting very seriously. They were to be as chaste as possible until his special order from the lingerie boutique arrived.

It was a unique type of torture, to have the most beautiful man in the entire world as his lover and then to suddenly be denied the ability to _touch_ him like he wanted, to have his hands gently batted away, Diarmuid’s eyes twinkling, as he tried give his ass a quick squeeze.

Kisses, however, were not forbidden—even Diarmuid balked at the idea of a week without a single kiss—and so David spent their private moments pressing kisses along his boyfriend’s neck and jaw and lovely lips. Quick pecks, not nearly as passionate as usual, but Diarmuid still adhered to a bit of decorum for their scenario. Kisses were fine, tongue was _not_ , and David had to keep his hands to himself, _mister_.

It was a bit like being in high school again, David mused.

But, well, the cuddling, at least, continued uninterrupted. David was relieved that their form of method acting didn’t extend to _that_ part of their private life. They still slept together, wrapped in one another’s embrace—Thank God. There’d be no rest or comfort for him at all if he wasn’t allowed the sound of Diarmuid’s snores, the warmth of his body beside him at night, the weight of him on the other side of the bed.

“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Diarmuid joked three days into their temporary celibacy, “I doubt monasteries let monks and their guests sleep together. Even if no funny business was going on.”

David grumbled and pulled him onto the bed. “I’ll riot,” he growled.

Diarmuid laughed. “Cruel and unusual punishment. I’d have denied you _cuddles_.”

“Sleep deprivation,” said David, only half-joking. “Can’t sleep a wink without you with me, sweetheart.”

“ _Mm_.” Diarmuid kissed his brow. “Well, good thing I’m not that mean.”

“Nah, there’s not a mean bone in your body.” Their next kiss was a little deeper, a little longer, a little less chaste. No tongue—David was careful of that—but his fingers dug into Diarmuid’s hips. “So,” David asked, “How much does this novice know? About _worldly matters_?” He gave those slender hips a squeeze.

Diarmuid laughed again. “You’re being very _naughty_ right now, David.”

“Just need some information. So I can play my part right. Does the novice have any idea of what he wants to do? Any fantasies? Or is the knight going to have to show him everything?”

But his boyfriend knew his ploy. He pressed another kiss to David’s lips, ran his hands along his shoulders, and then simply rolled off of him and under the blankets. “Well, I think he knows a little. Maybe he imagines a few things. But he’d have to keep that all a secret, wouldn’t he? Very sinful stuff he’s thinking about.”

As Diarmuid nestled against his side David wrapped an arm around him. “Maybe the knight just can’t handle it anymore and takes the novice in his room,” David said.

“Mm, improv ravishment. I like it.” Diarmuid snuggled closer for one last kiss. “And I love you.”

“Love you too, baby. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

So long as he still got to hold Diarmuid in his arms, David was willing to put up with a lot.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t counting the days till that package arrived, though.

One whole week, _fuck_.

* * *

He received the text during his lunch break. David sat overlooking the city, sipping from a thermos of hot minestrone soup and chewing on a veggie pinwheel wrap, both lovingly prepared by Diarmuid, when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He wiped his lips and his hands on a napkin before checking the message.

_My robe came in!!! I can be ready when you get home if you’d like? ;)_

Oh, fuck yes. A week without sucking Diarmuid’s cock or having him ride David’s. Not even the taste of the inside of his mouth or stretching him open on his fingers. He wanted Diarmuid in that robe so he could immediately rip it off of him.

_please_ , David typed back, _cant wait to see u sweetheart_

His replied not a minute later, the excitement obvious even through the screen. _I’ll be ready!!! I’m going to leave your clothes on the couch, okay? Knock on the bedroom door when you’re all set. <3 <3 <3_

In their discussion over how exactly this scenario would play out they’d agreed to have the bedroom be Diarmuid’s private cell. _got it_ , David replied.

_Thank you, David!! I love you so much! <3 <3 <3_

He smiled. _love u too <3 _

When David got home the clothes were neatly folded on the couch just as Diarmuid had said. A dark gray long-sleeved shirt and black pants, which Diarmuid had bought for him, and a pair of well-worn black boots, which David had already owned. His boyfriend, ever the Renaissance man, had sewn together a surcoat from a few yards of dark blue fabric. Diarmuid had even embroidered a coat of arms for him. In neat, skilled stitches, right where the material rested over David’s heart, was the image of a hammer and a wolf standing on its hind legs.

“It’s like, your construction job,” Diarmuid had said, blushing scarlet as David surveyed the surcoat, “The hammer, you know. And the wolf because—“

“I’m going to corrupt one of God’s flock?” David asked with a grin that was probably quite wolfish in itself.

“Because I think it fits you. Fierce and strong and everyone seems to think you’re scary...” Diarmuid placed his hands on David’s hips. “But _I_ know that you’re just a big puppy.”

A big puppy. No one but Diarmuid had ever called David that. But then, no one but Diarmuid had ever made David weak at the knees, no one had sent him out the door every morning with a kiss on the lips and a packed lunch in his hand, no one had ever said “I love you” with the same extraordinary amount of affection every single time the words left his lips, and no one had ever looked past David’s gruff, broad exterior and right into his heart.

No one but Diarmuid. And he saw not only a big puppy, he saw a _knight_. And David would do his damndest to bring that fantasy to life tonight. He wasn’t an actor, hadn’t even done a high school play, but by God he was a _boyfriend_. He knew what Diarmuid wanted, what Diarmuid liked. And David could stumble through some knightly, flowery, Harlequin romance-novel script if it made him happy.

He threw his shoes to the side, then, after a moment, went back and placed them neatly by the door. Then he changed into the gray shirt and black pants and the black boots. He pulled the surcoat over his head. Diarmuid really had done a great job on it. A real knight would’ve been pleased with the quality. It even made David—who was built more for the role of a blacksmith or stable hand, to be honest—look and feel like a valiant, noble warrior.

At the same time he also felt a bit stupid, but he was a complete fool for Diarmuid anyway so what did it matter if he looked it? So long as his boyfriend liked it. And he would, because it’d been a week— _an entire week_ —since they’d had sex and David was ready to pound him into the bed.

Nevertheless his knock on their bedroom door was more tentative than he would’ve liked, but his nerves were getting to him. “Diarmuid, baby—you ready for me?”

Diarmuid’s voice was slightly muffled by the door between them. “Almost, David! Just give me a minute, I’m—okay. Okay, I’m ready!”

David took a deep breath and walked into the room.

There was no way that their bedroom would ever look like a monk’s cell, but Diarmuid had done wonders with what they had. He’d scrupulously cleaned; not an item was out of place. The floor was bare, the bed neatly made, and he’d lit a few candles here and there to give off a medieval aesthetic that was also, in David’s opinion, quite sensual. There was a bible on their nightstand for additional affect and that was probably sacrilegious considering what they were going to do.

Diarmuid knelt at the foot of the bed, head bowed, hands clasped together in prayer. When David shut the door with a _click_ he stood and whirled around, letting out an exaggerated gasp of surprise. David’s groan, however, was completely real.

Diarmuid wore a black, hooded robe and that was about as close to monastic asceticism as it got. It was a sheer, short, silky thing, just as he liked it and just as _David_ liked it. The material fell just above his mid-thigh and had been tied shut with a loose bow around his midriff. His pale, freckled skin glowed, a perfect contrast to the dark fabric.

Jesus Christ. If any young prospective monks had actually worn that their vows of celibacy wouldn’t have just been broken, they’d have been _obliterated_. And Diarmuid—Diarmuid would’ve been shoved down onto the hillside, back against the grass, the robes pushed up to his chest, legs spread wide, and vigorously _fucked_ , keening and crying in pleasure, visible to anyone and everyone who passed by.

His boyfriend caught his eye and smiled, so sweet and yet so very sexy, before diving straight into their storyline.

“My lord,” Diarmuid cried, one hand to his chest, “What are you _doing_ here? We’re not to be alone together, let alone in my _private_ cell—not after the abbot _caught_ us in the garden.”

David broke out into a sweat. He’d already forgotten the script and most of the backstory. Hell, what had happened in the garden? They weren’t already fucking, were they? No, that couldn’t be it—the whole point of this thing was for Diarmuid to be seduced and shown worldly pleasures beyond his imagination. So, what would have the abbot seen? A prolonged kiss, with the knight pressing his tongue into the novice’s mouth to taste the hymns in his throat? Or maybe the novice would have had the temerity to palm at the knight’s cock through his pants, and the ragged moans alerted the other monks to their secret rendezvous.

No, he was over thinking it. It didn’t matter what had already occurred in the story, only what they wanted to happen.

And David desperately wanted inside Diarmuid, to have his boyfriend wrapped around his cock, squirming underneath him, toes curling, as David fucked him into next week.

“My lord?” Diarmuid softly prompted. He gave David an encouraging smile.

David swallowed. All he had to do was keep the conversation going. “Couldn’t—couldn’t stay away from you. I needed to see you.”

“Well, you’ve seen me. Now you _must_ leave before the abbot sees _you_ here alone with me.”

“Must you deny yourself even this?”

“What—whatever do you mean?”

“This life of solitude. Of denial. This isn’t for you. You deserve the—the world. You deserve to be touched and kissed and pleasured.” It was easier when he was speaking the truth. Diarmuid deserved everything he wanted and more, and David thanked God every day that he wanted David of all people. “Let me, uh. Let me show you.”

Diarmuid’s face had gone pink, his expression soft. “Oh, _David_ , I—“ Then he caught himself. “I mean, my lord! Please, we mustn’t! I acknowledge that there is— _something_ —between us. But I am meant for a life of chastity and prayer. No matter what _sinful_ scenarios I may dream up at night!”

Right, okay. The novice was indicating that he’d thought of the knight as well. And quite frequently, it seemed. Okay. David could do this. He took another deep breath and asked, “What am I doing in these dreams?”

“Oh, I can’t bare to speak about it,” cried Diarmuid, who then immediately proceeded to speak about it in sordid, intimate detail, “I’ve dreamt of your big, rough hands running all over my body, _entering_ me, stretching me open with your fingers. Of your lips against mine and—and _elsewhere,_ tasting me.” Diarmuid’s eyes flitted to between David’s legs, where even the extra layer of the surcoat did nothing to hide his erection. Then he added, trying and failing to hide a pleased grin, “And your _manhood_. I dream of that _all the time_. In my hands, in my mouth, inside me, _filling me_ with your seed.”

Jesus Christ. Wasn’t he supposed to be seducing Diarmuid? This seemed to be the other way around. The pretty, flirtatious novice and the eager, yearning knight. But his boyfriend seemed to be enjoying himself immensely from the look of his hard, pink cock erect and leaking through that sheer silk robe.

It was his move now, and David knew exactly what his next step would be. He pulled off the surcoat and tossed it aside—or he would have, but Diarmuid had worked hard on it and he wanted to be careful. He forcefully placed it on the top of their dresser. The boots—would those be better on or off? Shit, no, he wore them to work and he didn’t want to dirty the bed. Not like that, anyway. He kicked them to the side.

When he got his shirt off Diarmuid let out a loud gasp. He fell back onto the bed as if he were too shocked to stand. “My lord— _whatever_ are you _doing_?”

“Making those dreams of yours a reality.” The pants did not come off as easily or seductively as David would’ve liked; he was in too much of a hurry to get to Diarmuid sitting there on their bed like a present waiting to be unwrapped. If his boyfriend noticed the slight stumble as he divested himself of the rest of his clothes he didn’t point it out. Instead he waited patiently on mattress—kicking his legs in anticipation—while David got naked.

As soon as the last piece of clothing hit the floor David pounced. Diarmuid shrieked in delight as he was pinned down onto the bed. To his credit, he quickly turned it into a plaintive plea. He squirmed underneath David, half-heartedly struggling and pushing him away. “Oh, my lord, please, you mustn’t—my vows—“

David growled, “I’m no lord. And you’re not a monk yet.” With that he tugged Diarmuid’s robe loose and pressed him into the bed. It’d only been a week, but he was _starving_ for his touch, his taste, his heat. But first thing was first: a proper, satisfying kiss, slipping his tongue into Diarmuid’s mouth, reacquainting himself with the contours of his teeth, the sweetness of his lips. Diarmuid moaned—music to his ears. He couldn’t wait to hear what other delicious little noises he’d draw from his boyfriend tonight.

Christ, David needed to be inside him. He pulled away, pressed his forehead against Diarmuid’s and panted, “Baby—you ready for me?” It was a break from their roleplay, yes, but he needed a straight answer. There was no room for confusion here—not when it came to Diarmuid’s comfort.

But his boyfriend seemed to understand. Diarmuid nodded frantically. He whimpered, “Y-yes, David. Before you came home—I’m ready.”

Another kiss—quick but gentle—and then David did his best to switch to back to pretending to be the luckiest knight in the world. “What were you thinking about when you were working yourself open with those pretty fingers?”

“You,” Diarmuid murmured, “Just you. Always just you.”

Was he still playing the novice? David wondered, flushing red. He indulged himself in one more kiss—but every kiss inevitably lead to another. He’d never get enough of Diarmuid, never. These passionate kisses, the warmth of Diarmuid’s soft, naked body against his—he’d missed that as much as the actual sex.

He growled again, “Was waiting for this. Drove me insane, having you so close and not being able to touch you.” That was true enough as well. Maybe he hadn’t been crazed with lust like the long-suffering knight, but David had missed the more— _carnal_ of their nightly activities. Hell, he and Diarmuid had rarely ever gone a day without getting each other off since they moved in together.

“David—I mean, my lord— _surely_ you won’t fit inside me. You’re far too _big_. Your thick, um, girthy manhood—” And then Diarmuid burst out laughing. It was infectious. David kissed his neck and laughed aloud into his brown curls, holding the younger man as they both dissolved into giggles.

“I’m sorry,” Diarmuid said, smiling. “I couldn’t think of another word. Your big, thick, girthy manhood— _hm_ , needs some work.” He reached between them and brushed his fingers along David’s cock.

“Ah, _fuck_ —this novice has a mouth on him. Talking about dicks like that.”

“Well, he’s quite educated, being a monk and all.” Diarmuid leaned back and spread his legs. Those light fingers trailed down David’s back to give his ass a squeeze. “Knows how to describe a _very_ impressive _manhood_ when he sees one.”

David couldn’t help but preen at that. Prettiest thing in the entire world, and he was in David’s bed, complimenting David’s— _attributes_. All he ever wanted to do was show Diarmuid a good time—make him happy. He took this lull in their roleplay to ask, “Am I doing okay? Is this what you wanted?”

His boyfriend’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yes! You’re wonderful, it’s even better than I imagined. What about you, David? Do you—do you want to keep going?”

“Fuck yeah, I want to keep going. Want to fuck my novice in his sexy little robe. Was worth the wait to see you wearing this.”

It always amazed him, how _pink_ Diarmuid could get. “Um, okay. Okay, how do you want to—to restart…?”

David kissed him again. “I got it, baby, just give me a second.”

Where were they? With the novice about to be fucked into next Tuesday, obviously, but dialogue-wise. Shit. Wait, right, the knight’s dick was huge and the novice wasn’t sure about the logistics of it. Okay, David could work with that.

He cleared his throat. “It’ll fit. You stretched yourself open with those pretty fingers and you’ll be able to take my—“ Shit, cock or manhood? What was more historically accurate? Diarmuid had used the latter a few times, but then he was being a shy, inexperienced young man. The knight would be more vulgar, wouldn’t he? Except he was supposed to be doing a gentle sort of seduction— _shit_. Well, he’d just go with it. “You’ll be able to take my cock easily. And you’ll. I’ll, uh—there won’t be any pleasure forbidden to you. Not when I’m here.”

That had been a bit rough but nonetheless Diarmuid was trembling with excitement. He had his bottom lip between his teeth, biting back a smile, staring up at David through his long, dark lashes, his eyes dark with arousal, his expression expectant.

“You’d profane a man meant to serve God?” he asked.

David shook his head. “No, I’m going worship every inch of you.”

He felt Diarmuid’s cock actually _twitch_ at that and that was as good an invitation as any. “ _Please_ , my lord, I—oh! _Oh_!” Diarmuid cried out as David finally pressed into him. His boyfriend let out a breathless laugh. “God, you f-feel amazing.”

“Taking—oh, fuck, _Diarmuid_ —taking the Lord’s name in vain? Some monk you are.” David stayed his hips as they broke into another bout of laughter. He was as deep inside Diarmuid as he could get, surrounded by his hot, wet, tight heat, and Diarmuid’s hands were running through his hair, stroking his neck and back, and Diarmuid’s lips were at his neck—he could feel his smile right at his pulse.

This was—this was good. It was silly and neither of them would have ever gotten a call-back from any audition, that was for sure, but it was fun and it was hot and most importantly it was with Diarmuid.

He kissed Diarmuid’s forehead, then his nose, then his lips. “Love you, baby,” he said, because for some reason it seemed really important that he say that right now.

The corners of Diarmuid’s eyes crinkled when he smiled. He was so fucking beautiful. “I love you, too, David.” Then his expression went mischievous. He batted his eyes and crooned, “Oh, please, my lord, _take me_ —there’s no need to gentle. Not so long as you kiss me afterwards.”

Hell, David would kiss him during. Maybe it would’ve been better if the knight had fucked the novice from behind—rough and desperate, the former aching from however many weeks or months of coy flirtations and teasing, the latter oh-so-eager to learn what he had been missing out on. Fast, hard, hungry for one another’s touch. But if he was the knight, then David wanted to fuck as they were now: Diarmuid underneath him, that sheer black robe rubbing against his skin, his legs spread wide, hips angling up to better take David’s cock as he thrust inside him. And David could see how he blushed and squirmed and how his eyes rolled toward the ceiling and his mouth fell open as David hit just the right spot to make him shudder and moan.

They couldn’t play at this part—they knew each other too well to pretend that it was their first time together, that Diarmuid was a blushing ingénue in the midst of being happily deflowered. They quickly fell into a familiar, steady rhythm, each sharp, deep thrust sending Diarmuid sliding along the sheets as his nails dug into David’s back.

Every soft pant, every sweet whine went straight to David’s cock. Just one week was too long without hearing Diarmuid’s breath hitch, without feeling him tighten around him as if he wanted David to stay inside him forever, without crushing their mouths together, licking hungrily each other’s lips, teeth, tongue.

“David— _David_ —“ Fuck, yes, a week was too long without hearing _that_ too. His name, moaned like a prayer. Diarmuid’s voice filled with desire.

“Tell me,” he growled, “Tell me what you want.”

His boyfriend nibbled on his bottom lip. “Come in me,” he said, voice low and throaty and demanding, just how David _loved_ it. “I need your cum in me.” He hooked his arms around David’s shoulders, interlaced his fingers on the back of his neck. The black robe was so sheer David could still see how pink his skin was underneath the silk. “My lord, I need to feel your seed inside me, filling me up. I want to feel it dripping down my thighs as I kneel for prayer tonight.”

Jesus fucking Christ, that was hot. And blasphemous. And really, really fucking hot. David pulled back so that he could grab Diarmuid’s hips and rasped, “Yeah? What’re you going to pray for, gorgeous?” He gave a sharp, deep thrust. Diarmuid’s cry was like a song. “You want me to fuck you like this every night?” Because he would. Jesus, if this was something he wanted all the time David could—could come up with something else. Something more. Suck the novice’s cock right in the church or strip him naked in the garden and fuck him right in the flowerbed. Rose petals, he could cover the bed in rose petals—

But Diarmuid said through heaving pants, “I’ll thank God for bringing you to me, and f-for showing me such _ecstasy_ , and—oh, _David_ —for giving you such a long, thick cock— _Oh!_ ” A high, shocked gasp escaped his throat as David collapsed over top of him, hands on either side of Diarmuid’s head, and came inside him.

A week. He hadn’t come in a week. That wasn’t part of the scenario—Diarmuid would never dream of telling him what he could or couldn’t do with his own body and besides, the knight had probably _alleviated_ his yearnings for the novice quite frequently. But David figured the knight wouldn’t be satisfied with just fucking his hand when the novice was there, waiting to be thrown onto the bed and ravished until he was leaking cum onto the bed. David could feel it now as he continued grinding his hips against Diarmuid’s; their sweat and his cum mixing together, staining the sheets. Could smell the heady scent of sex in the air.

He could feel that Diarmuid was still hard, too. Pink and pretty and precum seeping onto his robes. David brushed a loose, damp curl behind his ear. “You alright, Diarmuid? You need a minute?”

A shake of the head. “No, I’m—I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

“Mm-hm. Thank you for asking.”

“Always.” David shifted on the bed so that his head was between Diarmuid’s knees. He kissed the inside of the younger man’s thigh. “Going to suck you off now.”

Diarmuid’s knees quivered as David brought his cock into his mouth. He bobbed his head along the shaft, savoring the taste of sweat and skin and dripping precum and the sound of his boyfriend’s little whimpers and his fingers bunching the crisp, white sheets. A week. It wasn’t a long time at all, not really, but it was an eternity to not be able to touch Diarmuid, to taste him, to not be able to make him feel _good_.

Gentle laves and wet, open-mouthed kisses and he was slowly, so slowly, wringing the orgasm from Diarmuid’s body—David could tell he was close by how the muscles in his arms and legs tensed, how he threw his head back onto the pillows, moaning and writhing against the sheets, his breathing going rabbit-fast.

That’s it, David thought, humming around Diarmuid’s cock, that was it, he was so close.

The cum hit David’s tongue before Diarmuid screamed, “ _Ah!_ I— _ah_ , _David!_ ” Fuck, nothing tasted as good as Diarmuid’s pleasure. He swallowed down his cum and his cries and laced their fingers together as the younger man trembled through his climax.

David pulled off with a gentle _pop_. “How’d you like that? Good enough first time for a novice? Or do we need to go again?”

Diarmuid chuckled. “ _Mmm_ , maybe later. Can’t overwhelm the novice on his first night of earthly delights.”

“Delights, huh?” David crawled up the bed to press a kiss to Diarmuid’s mouth. “Then it was good? I did okay?” They’d kind of lost the act there, at the end.

“You did _perfect_. I knew you would.”

“Better at acting than I thought, if I could pull off a knight,” David joked.

At that Diarmuid frowned, just a little. “You’re already my knight, David. My hero.”

He said it so matter-of-factly. David’s entire body went hot with embarrassment. “Don’t get too sappy on me, now,” he mumbled.

But his boyfriend just replied, “You love sappy. You’re a romantic at heart. My big, strong, soft man. Kiss me, please?”

And fuck, if that weren’t God’s honest truth. He loved Diarmuid and he loved to love Diarmuid. Loved those pretty pink lips and that pretty, wide smile and those pretty, big brown eyes. Every part of him was meant for David to adore. “I’m glad you liked it,” he said, trailing kisses along Diarmuid’s neck. “Glad you had fun.”

“ _A lot_ of fun. Thank you for doing this for me, David.”

“I had fun, too,” David admitted. “And, uh. If you wanted to try this again. I had some. Ideas about what we could do next.”

Diarmuid stood up, stretched, and unceremoniously stripped off the silk robe and let fall to the floor. He gave David a wink. “Want to tell me in the shower?”

David nearly tripped in his haste to scramble off the bed. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“Good,” Diarmuid murmured, “We still have a week’s worth of fucking to catch up on.” And with that he turned and walked into the bathroom.

Jesus, David was the luckiest son of a bitch alive. He followed after Diarmuid, ready and eager and, as always, excited for what would come next.


End file.
